August 13, 2016

Stalker

In the online world it’s easy to be stalked, so easy that it is safest to assume that anything you do post, anywhere, online, is going to be read by a stalker, the corollary is assume you do have a stalker, because you probably do, somewhere, somehow, somewhy.

I even know of cases where there is a sort of cold war arms race, someone’s skank ho ex posts something entirely fictitious on fuckbook, the some one then reads upon it and acts as though it were true, the skank ho ex then uses this against them in court, etc etc.

I always adopted a simpler policy, my own particular psycho skank ho ex essentially freed me from a life of misery the day the secret family court case ended, ain’t nothing in her life that interests me in the least, I don’t wanna know, and by the same token I don’t give a flying fuck one way or another what she now thinks of me, I know she will stalk me online, but there is literally nobody on the fucking planet whose opinion matters less to me, so fuck you skanky old psycho bitch, and the cock you rode in on.

But mine is an “end case” scenario, an individual who has already done their level best to fuck my life up, and who ended up blessing me immeasurably with their departure, as jimi said, they fired all their guns and exploded into space.

I had a heart to heat with a buddy last night, he has ex problems, and his ex has apparently updated her fuckbook page to reflect the idea that she is moving back “oop north” and by extension taking the kids that he doesn’t get to see anyway with her.

He came to me full of angst, what if it’s not a wind up designed to get him to react which will then be used against him, what if it’s real and yadda yadda yadda.

So… let me get this right, the skank ho is moving 250 miles away, which reduces the chances of you ever bumping into her in town from slim to absolute fucking zero, and this is anything other than a good thing how exactly?

Ah, he almost blubs, but the kids…

What, the kids you don’t see anyway, and won’t get to ever see anyway until they turn 16 and skank ho mummy and the courts no longer get a say, assuming the little shits have not been thoroughly brainwashed against you by then anyway.

If they wanna find you at 16, and it’s a big if, it’s YOU who should not move buddy, not them, doesn’t matter where they go, they will remember where they grew up first.

Feminazi thinking, believing that there is any connection between the kids and the psycho skank ho mommy, feminazi family unit, if you are gonna reject the feminazi thinking, reject the feminazi family unit, and treat every single one of them as individuals with zero connection of any kind to any other individual.

Peace lies that way my son.

This isn’t some fucked up mind control meme about being a responsible parent and keeping you shackled to guilt for the rest of your life, this is survival, dodged a fucking bullet there, pretty much, move on and move up.

Let it hurt.

Let it heal.

Let it go.

Pretty much none of the shit I have done (for values of “done” that include just chilling and doing sweet fuck all) or achieved or purchased or experienced since I split with my psycho skank ho ex would have been possible if she was still around, even peripherally with me having to be involved with her twice a week to spend quality time (sic) with the kids, the sic is there because as long as she is anywhere in the picture, she would make sure there was no quality time.

No, let the psycho bitch stalk you all she wants, provided you have no interest in any further interaction of any kind with her, who cares.

The stalkers you *should* be worried about are the ones in your employers HR department, the ones in the local Council offices, the ones in the po-po, the ones in the house three doors down that object to you going out for a 3 am ride, and so on.

It’s remarkably easy to build up data on people, even if they have almost blank fuckbook profiles, because they are interacting with other people on fuckbook, and *those* people, or even *other* people that *those* people interact with, aren’t so circumspect.

I’ve got a friend with an estranged family member who has a fuckbook profile that literally has no data apart from the name, and yet via these methods the friend has regular updates of information about what pets the estranged family member has, where they have been, photos of them at social events, photos of the kids at other kid’s parties, photos of their new car, photos of their new house, where they went on holiday, if they are still regularly in touch with Tom and Dick and Harry, and even via the Fuckbook tie in with Whatsapp, even the latest mobile number.

They haven’t *used* any of the info, but it is out there, and it is easy to find, even though the estranged individual in question only has a fuckbook page with their name on it, to prevent anyone else creating a fuckbook page with their name.

Kevin Mitnick would be cumming in his pants 24/7 if he was still into his old tricks today.

Thus, from the example above, you can see the *allure* of this social data mining from the State’s POV, the trouble is, what works on an individual scale, is very hard to make work on a collective scale.

It would be hard for my friend to determine their estranged family members’ political leanings, are they a rapefugee sympathiser, are they a closet paedo (why not, everyone else is apparently), are they dealing drugs, are they in possession of an illegal firearm, are they still addicted to red bull?

Because the state doesn’t care one iota what pets they have, if the kids ever see their dad, who they are fucking this week.

You can still find, if you look, within fuckbook, comments made four or more years ago, but long since “deleted” or “hidden” by the fuckbook user and which are nowhere to be found on their own profile, or linked from their own profile, but fuckbook never actually deletes anything, it just sorta hides it from easy view, there we go, swept under the carpet, all nice and tidy again.

And *this* form of stalking can become worth while to individuals, compulsive / obsessive types maybe, but, there are enough of them out there too, and like paedos gravitating to careers within the courts and social services, these people gravitate towards careers where they get paid to do this shit every day, by the po-po, by the council, by the HR dept, by the transgender fetus liberation army, by the political wing of the traffic cone manufacturers association, by the MSM.

I have a *fairly* (shades of very) rare given name, but once you start talking internet sized sample populations suddenly rare things give all sorts of false positives, whether it be facial recognition or DNA matching or given names, and the very initial rarity just gives those false positives even more credibility.

As everyone who does not understand statistics (which is almost everyone) will know, a false positive at 100,000:1 odds is much more certain to be true than a false positive at 10:1 odds…. puke…

One of the people out there who have my exact name (and many other similar enough to squint and be a typo details such as age etc) happens to live about 60 miles away from me, another one (checks google maps) mm, doesn’t give a mileage, but 15 hours flight time to TN, anyway, the guy in the states was done for DUI early on in this year, and the guy an hour down the road just got some recognition for his work riding a human blood delivery motorcycle, so this person I speak to maybe once every two years pops up and says it’s good I’m doing good charitable works delivering blood, but it doesn’t excuse being a drunk driver in the first place, and how come I got such a short ban or is there some special dispensation for driving blood around?

My initial response of, literally, what the fuck are you on about dude?

Was met with scorn, no point trying to hide it I was told, all information is available to those who know how to look and who have access to certain systems at certain levels etc.

Dude, I have no fucking clue what you are talking about, check the email address you are sending this to, or check an AV / rootkit scan, or something, because something somewhere is fuck up.

Was met with it was you who fucked up my friend, and links to the two aforementioned stories, which I admit were not *immediately* obvious it wasn’t me, certain details were not immediately apparent, and as the comments in this thread show (http://forums.theregister.co.uk/forum/1/2016/08/12/on_call_intern_trapped/) coinkydinks do indeed happen, obviously *I* knew neither one was me, so I looked a little deeper and divined the actual truth.

Then I laughed.

Then I added that particular contact’s email address to the junk filter.

Life’s too short to be a stalker, or talk to one, or think about one.

If you have ever had a fuckbook account in your name, you deserve everything you may one day get.